How The Grinch Stole The SGC
by Matrix234
Summary: T’was the night before Christmas and all through the base, not an airman was stirring…until…you know Christmas at the SGC won’t end well…Que music, snow and … the Grinch? A Matrix/Skyerose Colabaration. Unashamadly, Unsuprisingly J/S.
1. Setting the scene

**The Grinch That Stole Christmas**

A collaboration between Matrix234 and Skyerose.

**Disclaimer:** Do we still have to put these? Seriously? Fine.

We don't own Stargate SG1...

We don't own the Nightmare Before X-Mass unfortunately…

We don't own the rights to the many songs we will butcher during this story…

We don't own the Muppets Christmas carol…

We don't own the Grinch …

Lets cut to the chase here…

**We don't own ANYTHING!**

**Plot:** COMPLETE AND UTTER MUSICAL NONSENSE. Don't hate us. Blame it on the Christmas spirit.

T'was the night before Christmas all through the base, not an airman was stirring…until…you know Christmas at the SGC won't end well…Que music, snow and… the Grinch!?

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* * *

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**How the Grinch stole the SGC**

**A Matrix/Skyerose collaboration**

It was the holidays, a time for giving, receiving, relaxing, but national holidays meant nothing to the people in charge.

The president sat as his walnut desk in the oval office, a roaring fire blazing behind him as he perused the latest mission report from the SGC, and as his soft chuckle echoed around the room, a smile began to form on his lips.

SGC mission report #1294752

Date: 24-26th December 2008

Base commander: G. Hammond

_"T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the base_

_Not an airman was stirring, not even Sgt Chase .  
The Weapons were hung by the rack with great care,  
In hopes that no baddies would soon be there._

_The teams were nestled all snug in their beds,  
While visions of calm worlds danced in their heads.  
And Walter in his BDU's and I in my shirt  
Had just settled our brains for a long night work._

_When out on the gate there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.  
Away to the gate room I flew like a flash,  
Tore open the door and took the stairs in a dash…"_

"Unscheduled off world activation, no teams currently off-world, sir."

"Close the iris."

"The iris won't close, sir!"

_"The light of the gate on the metal work below  
Gave the lustre of mid-day with its stalwart glow,  
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer_,

_"With a little old driver, so lively and quick,  
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick."_

"Just what is the meaning of this!" I demanded;

This intrusion's absurd.  
I was starting to question my sanity when out of his sleigh,  
A present dropped on the frame work metal.  
My first instincts were that it was a bomb,  
The airman took haste and pointed their guns,

_He smiled so kindly, that all thoughts were forgotten,  
And the airman became children with eager delight,  
The present was tempting, no doubt about that,  
But the intruder was more pressing, so I gave a shout._

_"But, he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;  
"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!  
On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!  
Back through the gate! To the world we call gall!  
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"_

To say I was stunned would be telling a lie,

Santa was real and reindeers could fly.  
But there still was the matter of the present he left;

I called for Siler to sort out the mess.  
He arrived just in time;  
things were starting to soar,  
Straight from panic to outright uproar.

He took his time checking, fiddling and such,  
But gave his opinion it was a present,  
This was all too much.  
I told him to take it straight to a lab,  
Proper diagnosis was needed to be had.

But for the life of me, I couldn't see what would happen,  
When he opened that present, the SGC has never been quiet,  
That must is a given, but an uprising of presents?  
It was not to be believed.

* * *

Siler looked at the box,

Pulled the wrapper open and stared,

His every nightmare unravelling before his eyes at that very moment.


	2. Rockin holiday

Chapter 2

Daniel was secluded in his office, he was happy, it was peaceful. Jack was off busy somewhere else, Sam had projects and Teal'c, after borrowing a book, hadn't been seen all day. It was the perfect time to get to work.

He cleared a section of his desk, deposited the many items reverently into boxes, tidied papers and brought on top a large bag.

He hadn't done this in years, the very novel idea of wrapping presents was as foreign to him as the Ferlings. It hadn't taken much effort to think of the perfect gifts, when you live and work alongside people for as long as he had, he was bound to pick up on certain hints.

He turned his old dial up radio on, and marvelled at the quality of signal he received from so far in the mountain. An old jingle was playing, and soon the words melted away into inconsequential drivel as he replaced the words with something more meaningful.

"_Rocking around the Christmas tree,_

_At the SG- party hop,_

_Mistletoe hung where Janet can see,_

_So I will try and get her to stop"_

His heart skipped a beat when he thought about Janet, then he held her box in his hand, the perfectly wrapped gold covered box, complete with bow and tags. Hers was the present he was the least sure of; he wasn't famous for his outward show of affection, but she was special.

"_Rocking around the Christmas tree_

_Let the lovin' spirit ring,_

_Later we'll bet on Jack and Sam,_

_And make fun of ascended beings._

_You will get a kawoosh-y kind of feeling_

_When you hear,_

_The Stargate activating, Golly!_

_Killing the Goa'uld ain't nothin' but folly!"_

Had it gotten easier, or had he just become blasé? It had been a quiet holiday, he was hoping for an even quieter new year.

"_Rocking around the Christmas tree,_

_Have a Goa'uld free holiday,_

_Jan and I are dancing merrily,_

_I'm so glad I descended, Yay!"_

* * *

Teal'c was alone in his room, Daniel's book open on his immaculate desk. His eyes glanced down to the book and tweaked the object on the wall. He took a step back admiring his work

(Truth be told, it looked like page 310 from the 'Do-It-Yourself' Christmas catalogue) The tinsel was hung from the wall with great care and the stockings were filled with nonsense toys.

"A Christmas is something you make for yourself, so personalize as many things as you can," the sentence seemed simple enough; he had even glued sequins onto the stocking in the pattern of joyous merriment. It wasn't until another song came on the radio did he truly believe.

"_I've got O'Neill and Carter,_

_And Daniel and Janet,_

_Jacob and Jonas,_

_And Walter and Siler,_

_But did I recall,_

_The most deserving loved one of all?_

_Junior, my little symbiote, (Symbiote!)_

_Has a very nice little pouch, (Warm and cozy!)_

_But if you stuck your hand in it, (In it!)_

_He might go and bite you, Ouch! (Sharp teeth!)"_

He opened the number 24 on his advent calendar; a chocolate reindeer. He pulled a cracker with himself, and placed the pink and gold novelty hat inside over his head. A full bellied laugh erupted from his room as he laughed at the joke inside making a passing airman jump.

"_O'Neill takes credit for his name, (Name!)_

_Do not laugh, but it was I who did. (I'm so clever!)_

_No one can ever know this, (Know this!)_

_I do not wish my humor to be like his. (I'm unique!)_

_On this concrete Christmas Eve,_

_I will wrap their gifts, (They will love them!)_

_Throw in some color and glitter too,_

_It'll be some good times we'll brew!_

_Then how my friends will love me, (Love me!)_

_As they will shout out with glee, (Yipee!)_

_Teal'c and little Junior, (Junior!)_

_You'll go down in history! (Cause we're awesome!)"_

Yes, he had personalized the holiday for himself.


	3. Mr Humbug

Chapter 3

She had just sent her last e-mail. Practically living on the base didn't give you the opportunity to buy many Christmas cards; she often thought that the base should have a corner shop. All of her presents but one were wrapped.

She didn't want to wrap it though, she wanted to see his face when she gave it to him. The very thought made her feel warm and fuzzy feelings.

It was the first year she could fully allow herself to believe; believe in a better life, believe in her own happiness.

The radio came on of its own accord and, while normally her scientific mind would have scrambled to solve the mystery, the song was an old one, one that her father had often hummed to when she was younger while her mother had been basting the turkey.

"_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,_

_Just like the ones I wish to know,_

_Where no rules will stop me and Jack will want me,_

_And earth will be free of the Goa'uld."_

Could she dare herself to believe that life would be simple, that everything would turn into the happy ending that she had dreamed about when she was a little girl, where white Christmases carried a magic all on their own, a magic different to any in the world?

"_I'm dreaming of a true Christmas,_

_With every look that you give me,_

_May our days be merry and shared,_

_Just want to show you that I care."_

She couldn't know, not for sure, but it had been 7 years. She couldn't hold back anymore, it was time. One of them had to act before they both wound up wacko.

"_I'm dreaming of a bright Christmas,_

_Just like the ones I wish to know,_

_May your life be merry and fair,_

_Even if I'm not the one there._

_May your dreams prosper and grow,_

_Oh, I'll always love you so."_

She smiled, tucked the papers under her laptop, and leaned back in her chair.

* * *

It was a well known fact at the SGC that Colonel Jack O'Neill hated Christmas. If ever there was a time to avoid him at all costs, it was Christmas. Many speculated it was latent despair over the death of his son, but others merely believed that it was just all his pent up angry feelings spilled out.

"_When a cold wind blows it chills you,_

_Chills you to the bone._

_Colonel Jack knows the meaning of grief,_

_Cause most of all,_

_For years, he's been alone."_

Gossiping was common; every corridor was the same.

"_He puts on a show of indifference,_

_But his team knows different,_

_He's the worst of the worst,_

_And he thinks himself cursed,_

_He's the one we'll call Scrooge _

_Unkind at times,_

_Won't commit any crimes,_

_Our 'Sometimes Ebenezer Scrooge"_

Jack walked the corridors; ripping down the tinsel that adorned the walls. The airman hurriedly got out of his way normally with a flourish of twirls and guns, but today with swirls, kicks, and synchronized dancing.

"_Oh, there goes Mr. Humbug,_

_There goes Mr. Grim,_

_If they gave a prize for stubborn will,_

_The winner would be him._

_Where is Major Sam when we need her?_

_Cause only she can make him happy,_

_If they only saw past the regs, you can bet they'd be together._

_There goes Mr. Ice King,_

_There goes Mr. Tough,_

_The undisputed master of,_

_Forcing down his feelings._

_He takes out his frustration,_

_On us lowly little airmen,_

_We understand his problem,_

_But emotions aren't his playpen._

_He must be so lonely,_

_He must be so sad,_

_He won't let himself see,_

_That love could be had._

_He's really a victim of fear and of rules,_

_Look close and you'll see,_

_There is no one he fools. (Ooooohh!)"_

Synchronized dancing flooded the halls of the SGC like fog on a clear night. Every kick and flourish of mops and brooms, guns and pistols was perfectly timed with the music from seemingly nowhere.

"_There goes Mr. 'Don't Dwell,'_

_There goes Mr. Fierce,_

_He saves the world,_

_But not himself,_

_He lets rules and regs stand._

_Breaking code is a part of life,_

_But he'll never tell her,_

_The only thing that will do,_

_Is make their lives worse,_

_Every day,_

_In every way,_

_Their lives will be worse."_

He slammed the door of his office with a snap; the music from nowhere was hurriedly cut off, along with the airman who seemed miraculously to be occupied. It was sworn that the word "humbug" preceded the harsh snap of the door.


	4. You're a mean one

**Chapter 4**

It was simplicity in its entirety. He pondered how best to corrupt their day, but this was beyond wicked. Take away the very essence of their holiday.

He started at the top, using the box he came in, rather tricky in its design, bigger on the inside, a foreign and mystifying alien technology, but effective. All the presents, all the hours spent on the pointless need to give and receive, hours of lost time they will never get back.

He blocked the doors to the gateroom. It was easy; the memories of the host giving him an unrivalled advantage.

He opened the box, and out of it came a pre-organised mountain of boxes and squishy bundles, all tied together with tinsel string and enough tape to hold the Golden Gate Bridge in place.

A Christmas tree was nestled in the middle, and tied to it was a very irate, very vocal, Major Samantha Carter. He regretted taking the gag off, but her beauty would make a fine decoration for the Christmas tree. Her hands and feet were bound with tinsel, cutting red lines into her porcelain skin.

There standing in front of her, in the weirdest outfit she had ever seen, was Siler. But she knew it couldn't be him.

He was covered in furry green robes and long green gloves elongated his fingers to a point about a foot from his body. He wore a green fur hood, his eyes and mouth the only thing resembling a human, he was, and in no way over exaggerating, the spitting image of the Grinch.

She looked around; the gate room was a grotto. It looked like every gift in the whole SGC was made into a tower that stretched past the opening in the roof designed to lower the gate from, the large Christmas tree that had once decorated the commissary was now perched at the top. With her tied to it.

She was having a bad day.

And the overgrown Goa'uld in a child's Halloween outfit wasn't helping; what with his dancing around humming with glee. She had had enough.

"_You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,_

_You really will regret this!_

_You'd better put me down,_

_Or Jack won't be remiss,_

_Mr. Grinch!_

_You're a slime-y snake,_

_With no brains whatsoever!_

_You're a monster, Mr. Grinch,_

_Your heart is just a hole,_

_Like a worm through an apple,_

_You've got a Goa'uld as your soul!_

_Mr. Grinch!_

_You really shouldn't touch me,_

_For Jack's rage, he can't control!_

_You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch,_

_A Goa'uld can't even smile,_

_You've got all the bright uniqueness,_

_Of a broken white crayon,_

_Mr. Grinch!_

_Given the choice between the two of you,_

_I'd take the broken white crayon!_

_You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch,_

_You're a slippy, slappy snake,_

_Your belly's full of snake-y evil,_

_Your heart is full of greed,_

_Mr. Grinch!_

_The three words that describe you best,_

_Are as follows, and I quote, "Old, Ugly, Dead."_

_You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch,_

_You're the king of dumb ideas,_

_Your plan will fail, there is no fear,_

_Cause we will always win,_

_Mr. Grinch!_

_Your soul is a most horridly black shriveled thing,_

_With a most sordid kind of existence,_

_So surrender now, you idiot!_

_Before anyone discovers I'm gone!_

_You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch,_

_Seriously, I'm gonna puke,_

_You're a dead man walking,_

_Once Jack gets a hold of you,_

_Mr. Grinch!_

_For crying out loud, you jerk!_

_We are so,_

_Gonna kill you!"_

He climbed up the mountain in an extraordinarily small number of steps and hit her across the face; a sharp intake of breath followed as searing pain exploded across her jawbone, her head followed through with the force of the blow, before her defiant eyes met his.

"I think not." He gloated before sliding down the mountain on a sled that hadn't been wrapped

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**Dun DUN DUN!**

**What will happen?**

**Tune in later this month for the concluding parts of Matrix234/Skyerose's 'How The Grinch Stole the SGC.' **


End file.
